The Dream
by Nightrosewander
Summary: Erik talking in first person speaks of his life after Christine leaves and how his morphine begin's to take over his life... can he fall into the darkness or will his dreams suck him out.
1. Allow me to Fall into

_Allow me to fall into your world… let me take a step outside of reality and into the place I feel at home… Please just permit me past the boundaries of morals… escape the tortures of right and wrong…consume my soul I want to feel protected… take me… I want you…_

My voice was lost and I didn't have anything to say, control faded beyond my reach. I was grabbing something though to this day I could not tell you what it was. I hit the ground I'm sure of that, but my conscience had already slipped out of existence.

Then a bright light… shinning directly into my eyes.

"Go away!" I complained groggily.

"Yes ma'am I do believe he's going to make it." Said a voice not totally unfamiliar to me.

"Thank you sir… Erik." was all I heard before I lost my conscience once again.

When I woke up I was in my house under the opera lying in my coffin completely undisturbed.

"Another damned dream!" I screamed how I hated these nights when my mind was filled with grief trying to read the cryptic messages I know must be hidden in these dreams. "I've got to stop eating that cake before I go to sleep." Even as I told my self it was the cake's fault, I knew it wasn't true… I knew that my dreams were trying to tell me something, though what I could not explain, but it certainly was not the cake's fault. I am beginning to see my undoing.

I knew that even though I closed my eyes I would not fall asleep I knew now that I would be practically impossible to go back to sleep. My own sub-conscious was going to shut me out from finding anything I wanted to know. So after about an hour of trying I got my happy bum up and was at a loss of what to do. Pulling the mask onto my face I allowed my mind to think that today was going to be a normal day. What would happen beyond this point would be entirely like every other day… I do certainly hope so.

Walking out into the light of day… I no longer felt the fear of my discovery. In fact today I was delighted at the prospect. The adrenaline from having to come up with a plan to escape some one's trap would be the perfect thing to get my mind off of my dreams. No one came… there was no trap… surprisingly no one was even in the hallways. It was completely silent totally empty. Even on Sunday's nothing was this empty. Not a single person not anyone in the cast of the play and not anyone in the crew. No little ballet girls to terrorize. Absolutely no one. I should be happy, but suddenly I was filled with loneliness. A desire to be with someone… anyone. It was hours, I know, before I went home, but it felt like moments of nothingness. When I realized the theatre was empty I went back to my home and pumped morphine into my vein once again, in such a high dose I should have died.

So I pulled the chair to the organ and began to play the music which had been my shelter. I allowed my self to be totally eclipsed with music. I let it take me to a place men only dreamed of being in. A world I dreamed of being in. A world I have devised myself to create what I wanted. To become God of my own domain.

For I knew I would eventually fall asleep do to the fact that I was no longer living my life as me! I was living my life as the morphine made it! And even though I was addicted to the drug that had brought me such peace I could not help but notice the fact that I was no longer a talented musician, no, I was simply an addicted who fueled with my drug could compose the worlds greatest piece of music and never quite be satisfied, because I was having to be fueled to the point of extinction. Once I ran out of money my morphine supply would end and I would once again be condemned to the hell I had created my self.

When I finally get rid of my morphine I will be able to write what I want to write and know that it is mine. Until I do I will be forced to live in my hell. Never again will I be able to step into the light of reality… I am slipping farther and farther into my world allowing myself to be whoever I want to be. But I will never be me. I shall only be a sham of nothing. Because I am now nothing in the eye's of any one including god… For I am pretending to be god. No woman will love me. For I am alone in my darkness and I am afraid of what will become of what's left of me. Christine was my one true love and because she left I am alone. Deeply depressed and slowly becoming something I do not want to be.

What choice do I have though? What should I do? I can't stop taking my drug, it fuels my music and I do not wish to loose it. Music is apart of me and I do not wish to destroy any part of me that has not already been destroyed by the woman I called my mother and the woman I fell in love with. Although I must move on with my life I can't help but noticing the strange similarities between the two. And the fact that they both left me alone in the dark only completes their alikeness.


	2. Condemned silence

Condemned silence has taken over my home. Not even my music can penetrate it. I am alone and yet I have no wish to be otherwise even though I know that soon I will die I do not know what I should do now.

I am at a loss for words even though I can not say why. Adrenaline is being pumped through my veins. More and more now I seem to have this feeling of being watched. And a since of un-wanting has taken hold of me as I suddenly realize that I am slowly becoming paranoid with guilt.

She is in my dreams and with my waking eyes I can see her lying on the ground in such pain I can not describe… wanting to reach out for her I am falling ever more in the darkness only trying to reach her in the light… I grow tired reach for my morphine and she is gone. How I want to see her again. How I need to be with her again. What did I do to make her disappear, what punishment shall I receive for not saving the beautiful woman that now haunts my every move?

I drift back to the organ and what I played I can not describe. I wasn't even paying attention my music… all I could see was her and the deep inner wanting made me def to all but her voice…

_What have I done to deserve this cold indifference from you Erik… why have you abandoned me… why can't I be in your realm of solitude… when shall I ever see you again…_

I found I was crying. The keys became slippery under my fingertips and I slowly stumbled to my bed… my coffin. I was living in this tomb with no way to escape it. It was a prison I had created not only was it a physical jail house for my sorrow, but a mental solitude that only the dream could break. How I want to see her again… how I wish I had gone just a little further and gotten her.

Who was this woman I could plainly see now? Her hair long brown and curly, but not in a harsh way like Christine, but a soft wave that only begged for me to touch it. Her skin so pale… I only wanted to put her in the light. Her curves… so beautiful I merely wanted her to hold them against me. Her hands so dainty and small I felt as though I would break them at a single touch. After a moment of staring into her bright amber eyes I noticed she had outstretched a hand to me. I followed it with out question not even thinking about the consequences there surely must be. She never spoke a word but I could see words trying to form themselves upon her soft pink lips. I reached out my hand to her and right at the moment our fingertips were mere centimeters away from each other…

I opened my eyes to find myself once again in my tomb. If I cried I can not remember, I was thinking too hard about then woman. Who was she and why did she keep appearing in my dreams? Even though I felt alone the thought of her made me feel I was not, and that I was in the presence of an angel… or a ghost. I went to my small kitchen and ate a piece of bread. I'm going to die soon, I know it, for I didn't drink anything and I was quite sure the bread was moldy. I wasn't concentrating on what I was eating only the fact that I was.

I put morphine into my vein once more, but not as much as usual. The dosage was so low that the sweet relief I was used to feeling didn't come. I didn't want to feel good today, I wanted to feel her.

Is it so wrong to want a woman of my dreams? Even if it is not love we have for each other at least I should be aloud to have someone in my life… any one who is of the opposite sex. Surely god would give me something.

Oh no, I'm turning my thoughts to god all of a sudden. I do not believe in him… I do not! He has done everything in his power to destroy me and my spirit's he has shown me nothing but cruel hatred and indifference… he does not exist. Only I exist.

I feel so much better now… I upped the dosage on my morphine so that I could forget god… and forget her. I am going insane with the thought of her. I have become alone and my solitude is for me… and me alone.


	3. My house of solitude

My house of solitude has been savagely wrecked. After Christine was gone I was determined to take all of my possessions out of sight. I had even wrecked the dummy form of Christine and now I look upon it with pity. Such a beautiful piece of artwork, to be crush down after it had been needed most brought me such pain I can not even describe to you. My anger and rage had meant nothing been for nothing.

The people who came down to my lair we unusually surprised by the fact that there was a lake below their bellowed Opera House that they had quickly decided no one could have possibly been down here and that the little Giry girl had been mistaken in think that her mother had brought the Viscount down to this dreadful place. And after the destruction had taken place I watched the little Giry girl threaten to take the plunge into the water. I would have killed her if she had, but she made no attempt to dive into the almost frozen waters that channeled its' way like a road to my home.

The dismembered head that I had created in Christine's image now looked nothing like her. To the contrary it looked more like me then it did my little Angel. But she was no longer mine. She is no longer the item of my obsession. She is now the child I watched grow up before my eyes in the minutes that she spent in my home.

_Angel of music,_

_Guide and guardian, _

_Grant to me your glory…_

I could hear the echo of her voice, but I did not turn to find its' source. I merely dropped the head and returned to my organ where music shot like fire bolts through my fingers. When I had stopped the silence that surrounded me was deafening. I don't even know what was going on, but again that woman's voice reigned in my head.

_Erik I know your lost and confused… is it not possible that I am as lost and confused as you or at least have been… I have found you and asked for your comfort but you fail to hear my cries… what have I done to earn your silence… What exactly did I do to make you shut your ears off when it comes to me… why won't you take me…why won't you save me…_

My pulse quickened as once again returned to silence what I was going to do now was beyond me. Morphine was my drug because it made me happy. Aloud me to forget, but even at the height of my "happiness" I could hear the woman's voice unusually urging me to do something, but what I could not tell you.

I fell asleep again, but this time I had no nightmares, or dreams. I did not see the woman and I did not hear her voice. I saw only blackness but I know I had fallen into slumber because my pocket watch told me that over 8 hours had passed.

I went back to playing my music for what the clock said was hours, but what I felt was only minutes. Minutes where time itself and it's mysteries held no secrecy, and I was amazed at the fact that it had been 12 hours since I had heard that damn woman's voice.

The voice that I now had twisted emotions about. Where did it come from and why was it bothering me? I loved to hear the soft yet harsh tones that displayed themselves in her vocal pattern, but they filled me with such grief and a sense that all was not well in my head. For if I was imaging this woman it only proved that my insanity had been wavered. When I was in love with Christine I was in control. For my voice was what powered her will to fallow me. With this woman though I had a nagging suspicion that even though she was begging me to do something for her she and that her life depended on me… she was in complete and total control of my life.

Allowing the morphine to drip into my veins I was suddenly filled with a numbness of hope and happiness. Moving over to the organ I begun to play again. Only when I reached the climax of my twisted and demented song did I hear the scream.

If I ever forget that scream I shall be amazed with my self. It was so terrifyingly loud that I felt as though my eardrums were breaking. It filled me with terror and fear of what had to be happening to the person who was making the noise. For hours it seemed my world was filled with the scream and then… silence.


End file.
